


Debauched

by crossingwinter



Series: Yichud [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Extremely Established Relationship, F/M, hopelessly unbeta'd, w e d d i n g n i g h t s e x
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 04:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16339622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: “I’m trying to be subtle about my intentions with you for the rest of the night—as though there’s anything to be subtle about—and you, my little pragmatist, are going to want to change out of that dress if we’re about to unload shit tons of wedding presents out of the second seat.  I’ll take care of it in the morning before school.”





	Debauched

**Author's Note:**

> This was vaguely intended as a sequel to _[Yichud](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15687411)_ which is why I am putting them in a series together. They don’t have to be read together, though.

It’s about eleven o’clock when they pull into the driveway in front of their house. Presents fill the back of their station wagon, stacked precariously on top of one another in the trunk and second seat. Tomorrow, probably in the evening, Rey will drive back to Leia’s house and pick up the flower arrangements, and cover every surface of the living and dining rooms with them. But that feels very far away though right now. Right now, she is so tired she can barely move, and it takes her several minutes to be aware that she and Ben are in the driveway of their house.

He’s still in his tux, and she’s still in the silk and lace gown that Leia had insisted on paying for, along with the updo from Leia’s stylist, and the extremely expensive mani-pedi that she has managed, miraculously, not to ruin. When she turns her head a little bit to the left, she sees him watching her.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

“Tired?”

“We danced for like four hours straight. On a Sunday night.” At least she doesn’t have work tomorrow. Ben, on the other hand, is not quite so lucky. He’ll have to be up at five thirty or six to make it to school on time. Maybe she shouldn’t be complaining.

“Hi,” she says and reaches a hand out to cup his cheek.

“You already said that,” he points out.

“I know. But hi.”

“Hi.” Then. “We should get out of the car.”

“Yeah,” Rey agrees.

Neither of them moves.

“I’ll move if you move,” Ben proposes.

“Or we could just spend the night here.”

“I’m too old to be sleeping upright in a car, and the seat can’t go back that far because of all our loot,” Ben tells her.

“True,” Rey says. She unbuckles her seatbelt. “Look at that. Progress.”

Ben laughs and undoes his own. Then, with a level of commitment to the cause that almost takes Rey’s breath away, he opens the car door and gets out.

“Hey!” Rey says as he closes the door and rounds the front of the car. “I’m getting there.”

He opens the door on her side of the car and holds up a finger. “Option one,” he says, “I embarrass the crap out of both of us by attempting to bridal-style carry you over the doorway despite the fact that we’re both tired and that can only lead to failure.” Rey grins up at him as he holds up a second finger. “Option two, I offer you my arm—along with my life and devotion and all that—and we cross the threshold as an equal pair.”

Rey leans forward and kisses him, her fingers clutching at the lapels of his jacket. “Option two,” she says. “I don’t know _how_ you’d get the door open with both your hands occupied that way.”

“You are ever the pragmatist,” Ben says and he offers her his arm.

“The presents,” Rey says, glancing back at them.

“I’ll get them in the morning before school.”

“That feels unfair,” Rey says. “We should do it now.”

“I’ll do it in the morning before school,” Ben repeats.

“But—”

“I’m trying to be subtle about my intentions with you for the rest of the night—as though there’s anything to be subtle about—and you, my little pragmatist, are going to want to change out of that dress if we’re about to unload shit tons of wedding presents out of the second seat. I’ll take care of it in the morning before school.”

Rey feels her face heat up. Not because she’s embarrassed, or because she hadn’t figured that she and Ben would at least try to have the energy to have sex tonight. She doesn’t really know why her face heats up. Maybe sex when you’re married is different from sex when you’ve just been together for a while? She wouldn’t know. She’s never been married before.

“You’re still going to regret it in the morning.”

“The presents—maybe. You? Nah.”

“Someone could steal them overnight—break the window of the car and take them all.”

“Honestly, if they do, they’d deserve them. That’s some good luck and resourcefulness, getting the sting on a newlywed couple like that.”

“True.”

He stoops and kisses her again and maybe it’s because Rey is tired, but she forgets why she’s protesting as his tongue laces against hers quite sinfully. She takes his arm, and together they go into the house.

Everything is the same as it had been when she’d left that morning as she kicks off her shoes in the front hallway. BB—as pragmatic as Rey—had helped her find a good pair of flats that hadn’t killed her arches or given her blisters over the course of the day. She actually thinks she’ll wear them again. They’re quite cute.

Ben’s sitting down on the bench in the hallway, taking off his shoes as well. He wiggles his toes and sighs as he sets them on the ground.

“You look a lot more ridiculous barefoot in a tux than I do barefoot in a wedding dress,” Rey teases, coming to stand in front of him. He looks up at her and leans his chin against her stomach and she weaves her fingers through his hair, finding the clips for his kippah and unsnapping them. His eyebrows twitch.

“I’d forgotten I was wearing that,” he says, looking at the piece of little round fabric in her fingers.

She leans down and presses a kiss to the spot it had been in, then places the kippah on the hall table next to the dish they keep their keys in. Ben follows her motion and drops his house keys and the car keys into the dish as well, before standing and hugging her tightly.

“Hi,” he says.

She rolls her eyes and stands on the tips of her toes and kisses him again. It is a quicker kiss, and her hands drop along his chest to find his before she breaks it and tugs him towards the staircase.

“I have,” she says a little breathlessly, “Some really good underwear on right now.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Cotton granny panties.”

“My favorite.”

“Thought you’d like that.”

He’s chuckling. She doesn’t know why they’re being quiet. They’re the only ones in the house. Maybe because it’s late, and they haven’t turned on all the lights; or maybe because both of them are tired; or maybe because they’re both a little bit breathless.

Rey turns on the lamp by the bedroom door as she and Ben enter their room. She’d left before him that morning, and he’d actually gone so far as to make the bed, which he almost never does, which makes her turn to him, raising her eyebrows approvingly.

“Don’t get used to it,” he tells her dryly, a hand coming to span her waist and pull her against him. “It’s all part of the plan.”

“The plan?” Rey teases. “And what plan is that?”

His eyes twinkle but he doesn’t say a word—just bends down and slants his mouth over hers, licking along the seam of her lips before settling in for a long kiss that Rey sinks into gladly. He brushes his knuckles over her cheek on her way to her hair, where he weaves his fingers through the complicated updo that Rey had spent most of the day worrying about ruining. She can ruin it now, though. Or rather, let Ben ruin it if he wants.

She hums happily into his lips and slides her tongue into his mouth.

“Why Mrs. Solo,” Ben says, pulling away. “That’s hardly appropriate.”

“Hardly appropriate?” Rey asks, snorting a little bit. She cups his cock through his pants and she can tell he’s trying not to grin. “Forgive me for being forward. I just want to have sex with my _husb—_ ”

He doesn’t let her finish the word before his lips are crashing to hers again, his hands cupping her face, pulling her hips closer to his, weaving through her hair, running up and down her spine. Rey’s heart drums in her chest, drums as though she’s still dancing. She wraps her arms around his neck for balance—he’s still too damn tall—and pulls him as close as he can to her.

 _Mine,_ she thinks as his lips drop to her throat.

 _Mine,_ she thinks as she rocks up and down onto her tiptoes to feel the friction of him through his shirt and her dress. _My husband, my family. Mine._

She has a family.

She does.

And it’s Ben.

Ben who’s sucking at her throat as though his life depends upon it, Ben who has kept her afloat. She knows that sometimes friends are the family you choose—and she has such wonderful friends, such wonderful chosen family—but this is different, this feels different, this feels like a balm to that old ache she pretends she doesn’t have.

She doesn’t really realize that she’s gone still and stopped kissing him until his lips leave her neck and he rests his forehead against hers. “Everything ok?” he asks her. She’s still holding him. She’s still breathing hard, her heart is still drumming.

“Everything’s perfect,” she tells him and she nudges her lips towards his again for a slower kiss. “You’re going to have to help me out of this dress,” she says. Rose and BB had helped her into it earlier that day. While ordinarily, Rey is one for functional clothing, the function of a wedding dress is to be as ridiculous as possible, and so she’d gotten one that had fifty or so tiny buttons down the spine of it. There isn’t even a zip along the side to let her sidestep it.

“And what if I don’t want to?” Ben’s smiling a little bit into her mouth and Rey raises her eyebrows, pulling away from him just a little bit. His hands are still at her hips, and her arms are still around his neck, so she can’t pull too far away—just enough to see the schoolboy twinkle to his eyes again.

“Oh is that how it is?” she asks.

“Look, I’m never going to get you _back_ in this dress ever again.”

“You’re going to at least have to help me with some of the buttons or else you’re not going to get to play with my tits though.”

That gives him pause.

“I love you,” he says and kisses her again, this time briefly before he mouths his way along her neck to her neckline to suck at the top of her breasts. She’s going to have hickies there and would berate him for that except he’s already fiddling with the buttons at the top of her dress. She rolls her eyes and bends her head to press a kiss to the top of his head.

He gets about halfway down her back before the dress really starts to slip and he nips at the side of one of her breasts before looking up at her and steering her towards the bed, which he pushes her back down onto firmly, but gently.

Rey lies back and arches her chest up slightly as she wriggles to center herself a little bit. The dress slips down a little further down her chest, but she’s _quite_ sure Ben won’t mind that.

“Looking to debauch me, Mr. Solo?” she teases and he freezes. Then he shakes his head as though trying to get a thought out of it. “What?”

“Calling you Mrs. Solo is hot. Calling me Mr. Solo makes me either think I’m my dad or that I’m in class and I really don’t want to think about either my dad or my students right now.”

Rey snorts and sits up, biting her lip. She doesn’t want to break the mood too much, but this is such a _Ben_ anxiety that she can’t quite help but laugh. Especially on her wedding night. With her tits out.

She reaches a hand out to trail along his abdomen. The jacket of his tux is unbuttoned, but he’s still wearing it. She’s glad. If she’s not out of her clothes because he wants to fuck her in her wedding dress, then it’s only fair that he still be in his tux. Both will be on their way to the dry cleaner’s tomorrow, anyway. She shifts up to her knees as her hand goes higher and she finds the knot of his bow-tie. She pulls the tie loose and uses it to tug his lips down to hers again, and kisses the thought of his classroom out of his mind.

She loves kissing him. She’s always loved kissing him. She can’t fathom a version of herself that doesn’t love the way his lips feel against hers, the way his tongue tastes, the way she can feel his breath hitch as his heart starts to get carried away in her lips. She loves that he does get carried away in her lips.

She hears a rustling of fabric and realizes that Ben’s hands are fisting in her skirt, slowly easing the layers upon layers upon layers of all-too-expensive fabric up her legs. His fingertips brush the insides of her thighs, and she shivers.

“Cold?” he asks her.

“Horny,” she replies and he grins as he has the gall to pull away from her. He hikes her skirts up the rest of the way and Rey leans back on her elbows, arching her brows slightly as his grin turns into laughter at the sight of her underpants.

“You weren’t kidding.”

“I really wasn’t.” His fingers hook into the plain cotton she’s wearing. She could be bullied by tradition and public appearances into a wedding dress, and expensive hair and makeup and nails. But she couldn’t be convinced even a little bit to spend more money than she needed to on uncomfortable underwear when Ben was only going to see it for about thirty seconds before pulling it off her.

“I love you,” he says as he tugs the cotton and now it’s Rey’s turn to grin because he freezes and his eyes jerk up to hers.

Rey might not want to spend money on overly expensive, uncomfortable underwear, but she hadn’t needed any convincing at all to get waxed for her wedding night. That could be her treat. For both of them. She couldn’t be fucked to get rid of her pubic hair most of the time, and Ben had never seemed to mind it. But if not for her wedding, then when?

He sinks down onto his knees and she feels his breath—hot—against her slit. “Holy shit,” he murmurs into her cunt and Rey feels goosebumps erupt across her skin, feels her nipples stiffen. “Rey,” he breathes.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she moans out when he flattens his tongue along her slit. She hadn’t really _believed_ that it would feel better, not having hair at all, she bites her lip and grabs at the blankets of the bed as he licks.

He licks with an energy she’s never experienced before—probably because he doesn’t have to worry about any hair getting caught on his tongue, which has happened a few too many times to not be a thing they joke about. Or maybe because he’s excited. Or maybe because they’re married and the thought of that makes her heart beat a little quicker in her chest and maybe it does for him too. She peers down at him from where she’s still leaning on her elbows—or rather, she tries to. Her skirt is puffy and in the way and she can sort of make out his shoulders but not really. She sits up and he looks up, confused. She never sits up during oral. She lies back and throws her legs over his shoulders until she’s too blissed out to function.

“I couldn’t see you,” she says, and runs a hand through his hair, and along his cheek. He turns his head and presses his lips to her palm.

“Do you want me to keep going?” he asks her quietly, and she considers for a moment.

“I want to be able to see you.”

So he gets up off his knees and leans between her legs to kiss her. His lips taste like her, and she’ll never get over that—how readily he’ll slide his tongue inside her and then kiss her, how he seems just to want his lips on her—wherever works best.

She reaches for the buckle of his belt and tugs it loose before fumbling with his fly. He’s kissing her so lazily now that her head’s getting a little spinny—especially when he brushes his fingers across her nipples, pinching and tweaking them until she’s making little noises in the back of her throat.

“Yes,” he hisses out when she pulls his cock out of his pants. It sounds like he’s answering a question and she raises her eyebrows at him. “Yes, I want to debauch you,” he grins and pulls away from her, pausing to nip at one of her nipples before standing at the edge of the bed. He runs his hands over her thighs again, then slides two fingers into her, his thumb on her clit. “I want to fuck you senseless in that pretty white dress. I want to burn it into my brain, how you look tonight.” _To match the way you looked this afternoon,_ she knows he does not say. _One for my heart, one for my body._

Maybe she’d tease him, except he slides another finger into her and pumps his hand hard and all she can do is whimper out, “Get in me already, will you?”

And his hand is gone and he’s looking down, and Rey can’t see it the way she normally can because her skirt is in the way, but she can feel him pressing into her and _fuck_ that’s smooth, the way he feels. She closes her eyes and lets her head fall back and sighs.

“You’re smiling and we haven’t even started yet,” Ben says, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

“So are you,” she points out. “And I seem to recall you licking my cunt not two minutes ago. I’d say we’ve started.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle and in and out he slides, and Rey wiggles her hips to meet him. With her eyes closed, she can’t hear anything except his breathing, steady through his open mouth. She wonders if he’s watching her, the rise and fall of her breasts, the smile he’d just teased on her lips, or if his eyes are on where they’re connected, the bare skin of her sex, the way his cock glistens as it comes out of her. He’s always liked looking at them when they’re connected. He gets this look in his eyes, like he can’t believe it.

She reaches a hand out to him, her eyes still closed, and he takes it, squeezing lightly. She curls her fingers through his, feeling the cool platinum band that circles his ring finger now. Her heart swells. _Mine,_ she thinks, and she knows— _knows_ that as Ben’s sliding in and out of her, almost painfully slowly, he’s thinking the same thing.

“Ben,” she breathes, and she shimmies her hips towards his. He pauses and she opens her eyes. He’s staring at her, his eyes glinting and dark and a moment later he’s leaning down over her, kissing her once again, the soft fabric of his jacket brushing against her sides as she arches her chest towards his smooth cotton shirt. Just as quickly, he’s gone, though, and Rey lets out another groan because he’s not being slow anymore.

His hands slide under her rear to lift her hips up off the bed and she wraps her legs around his hips as he finds a rhythm that has her breasts jiggling on her chest and her breath catching in her throat with every stroke he makes.

“Fuck, this is perfect,” he grunts, and Rey’s hands tighten once again in the bedspread. “You’re so smooth like this I just—fuck—” His thumb brushes over her clit again and Rey’s only barely aware of moaning, “More, Ben, please,” as he looms over her. He rolls the nub between his fingers and thrusts a little bit faster and Rey practically gasps and rocks her hips from side to side, tightening her legs around him, grinding herself against whatever she can reach.

“Do you have any idea what you look like right now?” he asks her.

“Ben,” she moans, and arches, and writhes, and a moment later she’s seeing stars as heat rolls through her and her body trembles around him.

He’s gone still as she came, and she knows he’s watching her. He likes watching her come, likes watching her fall apart, as her eyes get soft and her smile gets easy and she looks at him the way she is right now: so thoroughly in love with him that she’s breathless, speechless.

She reaches for his hand again, and he takes it. Then, slowly, easing himself back into it, easing her back into him, he begins to move again.

Before long, he’s moving faster than he was before, his head rolling forward, his hands tight at her hips and it’s right as his hips begin to stutter erratically against hers that she says, “Wait,” and he freezes, his eyes locking with hers.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice strained. She can feel him twitching inside her, he’s so close. She needs to be careful or else he’ll lose it too soon.

But there’s no way to say it delicately, and she’s not sure she wants to. She wants to burn the image of her debauched on their bed into his memory forever.

“Rey?”

“Come on my tits,” she tells him and he groans and closes his eyes and his nostrils flare. He’s focusing on breathing and Rey smiles at him. He hadn’t come.

“How am I married to you?” he asks in wonder as he pulls out of her and lets her hips fall back to the bed. He clambers up onto the mattress on all fours, his cock thick and slick and bobbing. Then he straddles the upper part of her stomach, just where the gown has fallen to reveal her breasts and he begins pumping his hand over his cock and it only takes a few more strokes before he’s groaning and spurting across her breasts and neck and chin, hot and wet and Ben.

“Fuck,” he says after a moment, when his eyes have started focusing again. He climbs off her and off the bed and crosses to the lamp that they’ve left on, his cock half-hard now and still hanging out of his pants. Rey watches him go, not moving. He stares at her for a long moment before shutting off the light.

She sees him take off his jacket, drop his pants the rest of the way to the floor, and unbutton his shirt enough to pull it over his head.

Then he comes back to the bed and bends to kiss her again. “Roll over, I’ll get the rest of the buttons.” She rests a hand on his shoulder as she kisses him once more before turning onto her side. His cum drips a little bit across her skin as he unbuttons the dress, and he kisses each vertebra until he has reached the base of her spine. He tugs at the waistline of the dress and pulls it over the curve of her hips. Then he’s gone again, bringing the dress over to where his tux is.

Only then does he return to bed, curling around behind her and pulling her close to his heart. That’s the last thing she hears before she falls asleep—the perfect rhythm of his heart in time with hers.

**Author's Note:**

> This might or might not be secretly (or not so secretly) in the same verse as these ficlets ([1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13229922/chapters/32756373) [2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13229922/chapters/33475389)) (Pregnancy warnings on both of them). Choose your own adventure.


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